The Cage
by Whyntir
Summary: Abducted at the age of six, Alfred is raised to be a whore house slut. He & his best friend Arthur are taken to a place known as The Cage where he meets with the others just like him, including an urchin called Violet Haze, who isn't all that he seems.
1. Chapter 1: Abducted

_**October 31, 2019**_

* * *

"Hey! Wait up Arthur! It's cold out!" Alfred called after his friend who was heading to the next house with his plastic kettle that held the candy he already collected. Alfred had a plastic pumpkin while he wore an outfit based off of the _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ movie that his father had allowed him to watch . . . even if he was six. Arthur, who was eight, wore a girly witch's hat and a knee-length dress-thing that he called a robe. Alfred still thought it was a dress though, no matter what Arthur called it.

Arthur stopped in the driveway of the next house with a pouty frown, "Then why don't you take less time goggling at your candy and actually focus on what candy we're going to get, maybe you'd keep up."

Alfred caught up to his friend and gave him a weird look before giggling, "Goggling? Where did _you_ learn to speak English, 'cause that ain't English." He laughed so hard that he almost spilled his near-overflowing bucket.

"Oh belt up you git! This is bloody English, what you speak is not English! Come on!" he growled and led their way up the walkway to the final house of the street.

* * *

**Those two children were far ahead of the group that was still at the far end of the road. He had seen a ton of these processions, they were either teachers taking their classes out for trips to ensure safety, or they were a group of children from the orphanage. The way the children had upper class scaled costumes and not lame ass, home made ones that the parentless children made confirmed which of the two it was. He watched the ones closest to him, waiting for them to draw near. They looked like two little boys, though one could very well be a girl with that robe, but once he had them he would confirm. Both had blond hair whereas one had a cowlick that stood proudly at attention from where it originated in his hairline.**

**They looked absolutely delicious, holding up their little candy-holders that they bought at the nearest Wal-Mart with their parents at one time or another. They wouldn't see what was coming. The van was in the back; it wouldn't be hard to get two small children to come to him, especially on Halloween night. A smirk graced his lips as he came up with a rather silly, yet doubtlessly plausible plan. He fell back into the shadows as he awaited his prey. He needed to tell the others.**

* * *

"Alfred!" Arthur hissed to the younger boy while jabbing a mean elbow into his ribs, "Say thank you!"

"But he's scary," Alfred whimpered back, looking up to the tall Swede who had just given them each handfuls of candy. Everything from _Hershey's_ to _Jolly Ranchers_ and a Finnish man, who looked really fluffy and huggable-ly cute had fussed about the sugar and thrown toothbrushes in. Arthur had already voiced his gratitude in a shaky squeak, but Alfred hadn't been able to even pull that off yet. The steady gaze of the tall Nordic man intensified their fear, and the thought of a mad dash to the street courner didn't slip their minds, but Arthur would not let the young American leave until he acted _"Like a proper gentleman"_. Right now, Alfred's gentle heart was going to explode out of his chest and go yelping like a dog down the street!

"Th- . . . thhh- . . . . Thhhhhhh- . . ." IT WASN'T COMING OUT! Arthur was practically in tears, why couldn't his idiot friend just SAY IT! Arthur opened his own mouth to show his gratitude for his own friend, but his voice died in his throat, going on strike until the next house where no terrorizing Swedes would stare down at him expectantly.

"Thanks," Alfred finally managed in a hoarse whimper, almost inaudible.

"'R 'elc'm," the man replied and they skittered away as the door closed slowly behind them. They walked down the driveway before Alfred exclaimed with a sigh of exasperation as he flopped on the curb, his pumpkin set beside him grinning like a demon, facing the shadows of the ally beside the house, as though watching the figure that looked like nothing more than a blur of grey.

"That was _terrifying!_" Alfred cried out like an infant, Arthur rolling his eyes at how immature the other was, despite how close of friends they were. Alfred had yet to grown out of his cradle, figuratively speaking.

The English boy swiped the folds of his robe to straighten them out and replaced his hat upon his head with an indignant huff, "You made it last longer than it needed to. Like you and those stupid horror movies you watch every weekend. You repeat the scariest scenes and scream the entire time it replays."

"So?" Alfred snapped, his small fists on his hips.

"So, what you need to do is- Hey! Where are you going?"

Alfred had noticed a little something on the side of the house and rushed to pick it up. He giggled in glee as he held up a sandwich bag full of candy, "Lookie! Someone must have dropped it. And look, it's all carefully wrapped." He was about to go back to his friend when he saw another bag and picked it up as well. "Someone much have a hole in their bag. Look, it goes all the way to the next street."

"Well get back here you git! I'm supposed to watch you!"

"Nuh-uh!" Alfred called back, following the trail of bags, "Who says?"

Arthur huffed, his pale face turning a shade of pink, "I says! I'm older!"

"By two years!"

"So!" he shouted after the American, "You stupid, dummy! I can't let you just walk away!" He danced in place for a moment, noting how far away the teachers were and how far away Alfred was getting before groaning in frustration and running after the younger boy.

* * *

_The fingers inside of him massaged his pleasure spot as the toy vibrated against his penis. Tears stung his eyes as he bit his lip, trying to stay as quiet as possible as his body was being molested. He kept his eyes screwed shut, he knew how much the other hated his eyes, hated how they would weep and plea silently. He knew how much the other wanted to rip them from his skull and how badly he wanted to hurt his delicate frame. With two fingers in his tight entrance he felt full, how much more when his tormentor wouldn't be consoled to prolong his virginity._

_He hated it, hated everything. He hated those fingers that made him beg for more, hated that man who hated him, hated the lights and the cameras. He especially hated the people who would pay to watch a child being tied and raped. He felt his climax rising with each prod of those fingers against his sweet spot._

_"I-I'm going to-!"_

_"No you aren't! Hold it you little slut!" he snapped back, his fingers digging deep into the sweet pleasure. This was a training session, but they couldn't help but record. The man behind the camera was panting, jacking himself off to the scene. The fingers dug in as deep as they could, twisting and curling against the nerves, he couldn't help it, he screamed as the white ribbons shot over his stomach and chest, some spurting onto his face and in his hair. His legs shook with the force as his back arched, but as he was coming down from his high, he was smacked across the face._

_"I told you to hold it bitch!" he shouted into the boy's face. Tears collected at the courners of his eyes, humiliation and pain mixing together into a bitter concoction. His hair was fisted and his head wretched forward, despite his entire body being tied to the bed, "What did I tell you!"_

_"T-to hold it."_

_"You don't need to be so hard on him man, it was a great cum shot," the one behind the camera whined. He wasn't into beating the young ones; they were too cute and delicate. But how the other bossed them and beat them around was still hot, oddly enough._

* * *

Alfred giggled happily as he picked up yet another bag of candy, which made fifteen. Arthur, on the other hand, was becoming suspicious. "Don't you find it weird that all these candies are in bags? It's realty strange."

"'Course not! You're wearing a dress, nothing weirder than that man," Alfred chirped happily, throwing bag sixteen into his now over-flowing bucket.

He giggled as the English boy's face turned cherry-red, "It is _NOT_ a dress Alfred!" he stomped his foot, "How many times must I say it?"

"Aw."

"What is it?" Alfred's whine caught Arthur's attention only to see that the trail of goodies ended at the side of a white van. Nothing special about it, the windows were dark, so someone probably just parked it there for the night. Neither thought it was odd that the door was slightly open, or that the bag was so near to the car that it could only have been planted there. They were too young to notice the subtleties. Arthur, however, was getting a strange feeling from the van: a terrifying feeling. He grabbed his friend's jacket, "Leave it Alfred. Our class will be looking for us."

"Naw, they were barely from the starting line when we left them. 'Sides, Mrs. Héderváry wouldn't notice if we were gone a little while longer. I'm just snatching the bag and we'll run back."

Unsure, Arthur knew he wouldn't be able to talk the other out of his endeavor, so he nodded reluctantly, sticking close to the other. These houses weren't like the ones on the other street. Actually, they looked like they marked the end of the good neighborhood and entered the slums. While decorations were out to scare the small children, the English boy was quite sure that they looked scary regardless. Alfred inched closer to the bag, playing like a lion heading for the kill. Arthur rolled his eyes, but still kept an eye out for weirdoes, not knowing what they were getting involved in.

Finally, Alfred pounced, dragging the other blonde behind him with a soft cry of surprise. The American giggled, "See, nothing to be afraid of." Just as the words came out of his mouth, the door flew open and two pairs of hands shot out. They couldn't even scream before they were engulfed in black, locked by the click of the door sliding shut.

* * *

_The bonds that had held him down the entire time were roughly removed and he was thrown to the floor on his white covered face, "I believe he should repay me the favor of that great orgasm. Don't you bitch?" Dully, with much resignation, the boy nodded his head, his eyes hidden behind his bangs. The man gripped his hair and wrenched his head up, looking into the innocent, flushed face. He pulled out his own throbbing cock with his free hand and pushed the dripping head against the quivering peach coloured lips, "Suck it you little slut. Suck it and enjoy." Without waiting for him to really open his mouth, he thrust his thick meat deep into his throat. He gagged as the weeping head slammed into the back of his throat, his mouth full and aching around the large cock in his mouth, the girth a little too wide for his mouth. He had taken in the entire thing involuntarily, his nose nuzzled against the patch of near-white pubic hairs. The strong, musky smell curled in his nostrils, making him wish he had no sense of smell instead of sight. The man used his grip on the boy's hair to pull him away slowly before pushing him back as close as he could, fucking his mouth thoroughly._

"_You fucking bitch!" the man groaned, enjoying the forced blowjob. He felt his balls sack tighten and he pulled his length from the boy's mouth with an audible pop, jacking off to finish his peak, his seed spurting over the child's already stained face. Coming off of his high, he shoved his limp cock back into his pants, releasing his hair. The young boy fell to the ground, his mouth sore and his dignity shattered. The camera's flickered off with a soft click of the switch. He could hear the footsteps resonating through the cold, concrete floor._

"_Leave him," the first man barked his voice distant, near the door perhaps._

_There was hesitance in the footsteps, "But it's so cold in here."_

"_He likes it that way, now get your sorry ass out here with that camera. We'll edit the footage and sell it."_

"_A-alright." The footsteps receded, the low creek of the door groaned through the large room before the feet shuffled through it and the outside world was cut off with a bang. He didn't care. Day or night, light or dark, his world, eyes opened or closed, was just an endless black._

* * *

"Hey!" Alfred shouted from the back of the van, he was making good time on his binds that roped around his wrists and ankles. The American with the pale freckles on his face was a strong one; strong with a fiery spirit. He had already torn the tape from his mouth the second the sliding door had closed. Using his teeth like a feral cub, he gnawed at the binds, pulling the knot loose with his baby teeth, despite the fact that he was missing one.

Arthur was just scared, frozen with fear in the corner he has been tossed in by the men who had grabbed them. He didn't know what to do; he didn't know what _they_ would do. It terrified him to be so helpless, but he was just a kid! What could he do? "Alfred?" The American boy finally pulled his wrists free and untied his ankles, not really paying attention to his older friend. "Alfred, I think we should stay where we are."

"Nuh-uh!" Alfred frowned, standing shakily before tottering over to the other, untying those knots, "We're going home! I'm the hero and I'm breaking us outta here!" Once he finished with his friend, he hoisted the English boy up and they looked around their small, dark space. From a street light passing by, they could see a sack of something on the far side. Alfred teetered over to it and looked inside, returning with their buckets of candy, some spilled into the bag, and other foods like biscuits and water, even fruits and vegetables. Both eyed the food suspiciously, curiously. Why would food be in a van? Maybe it was the men's meals? There was two of everything, and there were two men, so it seemed to make sense. The younger took the water, not quite trusting the food, and opened the bottle, not really taking note on how the lid slid off easily. He took a generous gulp of the clear liquid, savoring the moisture that hit his parched throat. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was, but that was probably from his screams at the man before having the tape slapped across his mouth.

He looked to his best friend, "The water is good, I don't taste anything in it like poison or something. The food looks really iffy though."

"Yeah," Arthur muttered, taking his own water bottle and sipping it. They didn't talk as they drank from the plastic containers, but slowly their eyelids became heavy and they were tired. Soon, they drifted off to dreamless sleep.

* * *

"_France is coming back!" the older Italian informed them in a hushed warning. He was thirteen, much older than he could ever wish to be, but had been in the brothels longer._

"_Ve~. Is Lud- I-I mean Germany with him?" the younger twin asked. He was a ditzy thing that made clients just fawn over him, but Germany, as his older brother demanded they call him, wanted the little idiot for himself. It was love that much was certain. And Germany wasn't a bad guy, he didn't really want to be part of his brother's business, but it was family. Family ruined things like that, you know, life and all._

_The door opened and _He_ entered the room. "Hey!" he shouted, grabbing the two Italian boys by the back of their shirts and all but hurling them into the wall. Suddenly his features softened and his voice became sickly sweet, "You could be seen if you stand by the window. Besides, Germany wouldn't be too happy if I told him that I had to lock away his bitch for being an idiot! And that isn't awesome, now is it?" Everyone in the room flinched at the sound of his grating voice._

"_Yes Mr. Prussia," they sang solemnly, except for the small form curled in the courner of the room. Even the brunet who held onto his hand glanced at him worriedly. There were many of them, but Prussia could pick out their voices even in unison. The red eyes slid over to them, fear gripping the small brown haired boy. He didn't care, he never did. The black may be terrifying to some, but it had a degree of warmth to it as well. There would be new ones, scared ones who didn't know where they were, probably from the city over the border, Maine or New York. He would take care of them, everyone looked to him._

_He could feel the anger that bore into him from those crimson eyes, the eyes of a devil man. His own violet eyes seemed to glow in the din of the room as he stared back sightlessly. "Of course Mister Prussia."_

* * *

He woke up and it was dark, but he felt something warm curled up beside him. What could it be. He reached out to the darkness and patted it softly. It was soft, kind of, it was also sturdy. He poked it hard and a small whine escaped it. Alfred gasped in alarm and jumped back. It was another person! No way! That wasn't Arthur because it was too small to be him. He pushed against the form in the dark once more.

"Quit it," the voice whined pitifully, "you'll be regretting that you woke up so early when Prussia opens up _The Cage_."

Alfred yelped and fell back again, "Wh-who are you?"

"Isn't it more polite to introduce yourself before asking another's identity?" the person inquired in a soft voice, a slightly higher pitch than his own. They yawned and turned to him with dimmly glowing lavender eyes with large pupils that seemed a little pale.

"Uh," he wasn't expecting that retort, "I'm Alfred F. Jones."

"Oh, real names. I'm Ivan Braginsky, but everyone calls me _Violet Haze_. We need to come up with something for you."

Nicknames? What was this place? _The Cage_? What? "Um, where am I?"

"In _The Cage_. It's a whore house for small boys. I'm six by the way. Turning seven in December." A brief silent period followed when the other boy suddenly exclaimed with a giggle, "How is_ Star_?"

Alfred wrinkled his nose, "That sounds pansy. What about _Blue Hero_? I am a hero, did you know that? And I'm six."

"Heroes aren't attractive."

"Are too!" he was suddenly hissed at to lower the volume and he did so reluctantly, "Ever seen Superman? The girls throw themselves at him."

"You're six, how would you know anything about that? Never mind. But Superman doesn't have _men_ throwing themselves at him. Those are our main clients you dummy." Ivan stuck out his tongue and Alfred did so back, so Ivan pushed him and Alfred pushed back and soon they were tumbling across the cheap wood floor giggling as they pushed each other around. The sun started peeking through the windows and the commotion awoke the other boys slowly from their slumber. Once they had worn each other out, they lay beside each other laughing. "_Blue Star_. it fits you."

Suddenly the door burst open and _Prussia_ stood in the threshold. "Well, seeing as you're all up, let's get to work."

* * *

**A/N: WARNINGS: Non-con, child abuse, kidnapping, rape, coarse language, ect. ect. Anything horrible that you can think up, tell me and it most likely will show up, whether I am a fan of it or not.**

**Anyway, if you don't get the message, anything that deals with sex or sexual themes you can post and I'll most likely put it somewhere in the story. Ya know~? This should be fun.**

**I, in no way, approve of Child Human Traffiking and I find that anyone who is in the business should be executed on sight. Review and tell me what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2: Angel

**A/N: Short chapter is short. Nore non-con, shota, and this time child death. If anyone actually finds this hot, I think I should stab you. I srsly don't know why I go into detail on some sex scenes. Habit . . . and word count I guess. I'm think about making them older (15-16) so tell me what you think on that idea. And we'll see what is happening with Arthur next chapter, I feel bad leaving him out.**

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He held the little one close, he was the youngest in _The Cage_ and he was so small. Even Violet seemed large in comparison to him, and that was saying something seeing as how he was only fed once a day and that was when Prussia didn't hold anything against him. The small boy sobbing on his shoulder wore a bright crimson outfit that was still clean, being taken only a few days ago. His hair was getting dirty, the blonde locks becoming a greasy gold and his pale face flushed red. His shirt was still in one piece, the wealthy scarlet with brass buttons; however his trousers were torn in a few places and thrown to the side. His lower half was naked and bare, blood oozing in a light shade of pink down his thighs. He had been taken too soon, too rough; he couldn't stand; both legs broken by the brutality he had been put through. Violet held the small Latvian close to his chest, not murmuring reassurances, because there were none, simply stroking the filthy curls to show the boy that he was not alone in his pain and tribulation.

Not many_ of _the other boys were in the room, only those who were too small to work the stage and too weak to handle the back rooms. Blue Star sat across the room, his eyes wide in fear. The American boy had yet to be taken, but he was going to have his first introduction. It scared him, the way the five-year-old's legs twisted in the most grotesque angles. They must have hurt, the way he cried silently didn't reveal that, but how he cried with no end in sight gave an impression. _Violet_ rubbed soothing circles into his back like a caring parent. That was another name he had. While the older ones called the boy, Ivan Braginsky, Violet Haze, at one point or another, they all crawled against him and into his embrace calling him _Mother Winter_. Even Alfred.

* * *

_The man the others called Prussia had grabbed him roughly by his blonde hair and pulled him from the room. He turned back to the boy he had tussled with just a few moments ago and was surprised to find his filmed eyes watched him intently, guilt and sorrow flooded them as though a dam had been opened. At that moment, Alfred stomach fell to the floor, he didn't know what would happen to him, but it couldn't be good. He was dragged through halls of a clean, proper looking building, nothing like the room that was disgustingly dirty and filled with equally violated boys. He was then pushed into a dark room and harsh lights were flickered on and his hair was released with the click of a lock._

_"Undress," the white haired man demanded, but he was frozen in fear. Why would this man want him to get undressed? His mommy always told him to keep his clothes on, no matter what. He was brought out of his thoughts by the snap of a whip by his face and, though it didn't hurt him, he cried out in fearful surprise. Tears sprang into his eyes like it would always do whenever Arthur would jump out from around the courner. He looked up, frightful, to the cold red eyes that bore back. "Undress."_

_Now he complied, he was too young to resist for long. He pulled off the orange jacket his mother had sewn for that one night of childish horrors. Following it was his vest and shirt before kicking off his sneakers and trousers. He stood in nothing but his Batman underwear and the man raised one curved eyebrow at the clothing articles. They were of high quality, which meant that he was from the upper-middle at least. Alfred, his cheeks red from embarrassment, closed his eyes even though he kept his chin held up._

_Rough fingers gripped at his undergarment, his blue orbs shooting open in shock. The man stood behind him, kneeling down and touching him in the place his mother told him to never let anyone touch him. "Stop it!" he shouted elbowing the man in the nose. Prussia wheeled back and groaned, no blood however, which meant that his nose was still intact. A sharp bite seared Alfred's back as he attempted to crawl away. He screamed in agony as tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. Immediately following that one, three fell in succession. His throat became raw with how loud and long he screamed. He felt his back being eaten by fire as he was dragged back over the tiled floor. It was cold and it stung as he was thrown onto his back, Prussia calmed down and palming his small penis through the cloth. It wasn't a nice feeling; it was rough and mean, as though he was wondering whether or not to just rip the fabric off._

_Finally he decided and he dug his hand into the small pocket in the front, pulling forth the boy's hardened cock, it was a bright angry red and the foreskin was circumcised away. He ate up the boy's surprised look as he glanced down at his own prick, never having seen it engorged and erect. "Behave yourself and I'll make it feel good." He ran his fingertips over the shaft with a tantalizingly light touch. He chuckled as the blue eyes became wide with pleasure and surprise. With another laugh, he swallowed him whole. It felt so hot that he cried out, it was so wet and warm he pushed against the colorless lips. He cried as the warm tongue wrapped around the entire length and teased the head. This was so wrong, he knew it was, he hated this, and he wanted to die. Shame settled deep inside his gut as he screamed, ejaculating into that orifice. The man swallowed it all without any issues, sucking every ounce out of the urethra._

_Prussia pulled away and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before standing over Alfred's slight form. He was so hard from the innocence of the other, it was the main reason he enjoyed the young ones. They were so easy to please and they came so hard that they could hardly open their eyes. They were so cute, and with their innocents, they were ignorant of their own physical appeals. This one was too new to simply start fucking his brains out, so he settled for seeing how the boy looked with cum decorating his round little face. He pulled out his aching cock and ran his fingers over it slowly, building up to his full speed. He watched the American's eyes as he pulled and grazed along his own member, reaching his peak, and ejaculation all over the boy's face. Much to his giddy pleasure, some of the white ribbons layered into the child's open mouth. His blue eyes opened up weakly, the irises glossed over in a fine layer of tears._

_The white haired man stood and left, not saying a word, not looking back. The door was unlocked and he simply left, leaving Alfred to his own devices. He wanted to run back to the other boys, run back home to his mother and father, even if the man wasn't his real father. He couldn't move, his body shook too much, even though he felt numb. Then the door opened and Violet, Ivan, stood in the door way. He walked with silent footsteps to Alfred's limp form. Before really reaching him, he collapsed to his knees, the older boy's fingertips grazing his arm. The American wondered if someone had done something to Ivan, but when he opened his mouth to ask, a cold finger, frozen with the chill of reality, pressed against his lips as though it was a breeze. Thick droplets of tears hit the floor with a heavy splash that could have been a bomb in the dead silence. Alfred inched his hand to a small pool out of curiosity. When he pulled it back, it was doused in crimson._

_He felt the cold hands cradle his head and neck before being placed gingerly on the other's lap. Ivan softly stroked his hair like his mother did after he had watched a scary movie and couldn't get to sleep. Alfred looked up and saw the dead lavender eyes glowing above him, choked in tears of blood. As he allowed his eyes to slip shut, he could have sworn he saw the tattered wings of a fallen angel._

* * *

Alfred pulled himself back to what was happening, he saw the Latvian asleep on the ground, and Violet straightening out the broken limbs, setting them the best he could for temporary measures before finally folding his small hands over his scarlet covered chest. The younger Italian twin, Feliciano, had run off to go find Germany whose real name was Ludwig. He wasn't like the others, which was something Alfred had picked up on within the first few days. He didn't take them into the darkrooms, he fed them. He didn't beat them for talking back, but apologized for their conditions of living. He patched them up after they were abused and waiting to die, and he never raised a hand against them. The American had come to recognize him as a safe haven from his new life.

He refocused of Ivan, he now had the Latvian's head in his lap, his back turned to Alfred, but he knew already. There was a different reason why Prussia hated those eyes. It wasn't just the way they twisted and mangled someone's emotions when stared into too long, or how they sightlessly registered the surroundings. Nor was it how they seemed to glow and shine light on all the sins you committed in the dark. It was how he cried. No sounds were made and his face did not consort into any facial expression. He stared blankly, blood streaming down his face.

He was not them, he was not normal. Still, they all loved him just the same.

Ludwig entered the room, followed closely by a crying Feliciano who blathered on in a mix of Italian and English. He knelt beside the unconscious boy who slept silently upon the ground. Even as Ludwig shook his gently, he did not stir.

"He isn't going to wake up, no matter what you do," Violet's small voice echoed in the quiet room. Germany looked up to him, about to ask why when he froze, Blue Star couldn't see why. Was it because of Ivan's bloody tears, or perhaps something else? He crawled a little from his courner to settle in a more favorable angle. Scarlet covered the dirty nightdress that the ashen haired boy wore, covered his arms and hands. Ludwig turned back to the boy on the ground, his face turning a shape paler. He unbuttoned the last article of clothing the child had to reveal the stab marks that gouged angrily into his hips and waist. One, a thinner, smaller one, still oozing blood, glared back at them from under the child's right nipple. The German stared in shock, his body shaking from rage and disbelief.

"Who was the client?

"An Asian, I think he was five-foot-nine, his hair fell halfway over his ears and he had black eyes. Mongolian I believe."

Germany said nothing about how peculiar it is that a blind child would know what a client looked like, despite never leaving the room or asking who it was from the now deceased victim, he simply stood, picked up the corpse, and stalked out. Once the door clicked shut once again, the only sound was the soft sobs of a boy in the shadows, Toris, a poor boy from Lithuania. He had been a friend to the late Raivis Galante, though most of his days were spent beside Ivan. He took care of those that Ivan couldn't due to Prussia or other interferences. Alfred wished he could be like that, but he was too scared, too upset, and too absorbed in his own aguish. They were real heroes, not like Superman or Flash. They didn't fly or run super fast, and while they couldn't break them all out of their hell, they put aside their own pains that battered them everyday to feel for those who couldn't help but wallow in their own self-pity.

Ivan stood, his feet unsure on their footing from how he had been sitting on them for the past ten or so minutes, probably cutting off the circulation. He turned to Toris; his face stained in the blood-tears, and held his crimson covered hands to him. While some others would be too squeamish (like Alfred himself) to grasp the ensanguine boy, the Lithuanian threw himself into the embrace, crying on the same shoulder that Raivis had spent his last few minutes soaking with his pained cries.

"He is free."


	3. Chapter 3: Wings

A/N: Okay, now this is going to get trippy. My inner prophet (hahaha, don't take that literally) is telling me to add symbolism and now this story shall be riddled with it. I DARE you to point out all the symbolism. If one is passed over, I'll explain it in the next author notes. Have fun!

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"**Huh?" a voice exclaimed, "H-he's alive!"**

"**What!"**

"**He woke up!"**

"**Raivis!"**

"**Mommy?"**

* * *

_Arthur cried into his hands. He didn't want to be here with these men. And Alfred . . . what had happened to his American friend? Alfred lay on the other side of the room, his eyes staring blankly ahead, a trickle of dried blood down the side of his face. He had been like that for a half hour, not blinking, his chest still. The pale, freckled face was paper white and his lips were a faded blue. He still had the rope around his neck; Arthur was too frightened to take it off. The men who took them were sick perverts, getting off on beating them, bleeding them. It had been a month since they had seen home. He was hungry; having nothing to eat for the past few days was taking its toll. He was ravished, but he wouldn't eat the food brought to him, it didn't smell right and coming from him there was an issue._

_He didn't want to be here, and there were so many ways to get out. Broken glass and jagged pieces of metal littered the ground. There was a toilet in the couner, and though it was utterly filthy, he could drown himself in the murky water. He crawled over to a serrated piece of glass, taking it in his little hand. His mother was a doctor, so he knew were all the vital parts of the human body. He steadied his shaking hand; anything would be batter than this. Anything! He hissed in pain as the makeshift knife cut into the inside of his elbow, blood pooling up and gushing out in a constant flow. Fear gripped him momentarily before he relaxed; this was the choice he made. From lack of sustenance and loss of blood came drowsiness and all he wanted to do was sleep and not wake up. His green eyes slid shut, ever so slowly._

* * *

He felt a soft shake to his shoulder and groaned he didn't care who it was or what they would do; he didn't want to wake up. He couldn't have been asleep for more than two minutes, so what did they want? The shaking became persistent, not letting up for anything, even when he lashed out.

"Oh come now _mon cher_, you're so mean!" the person whined in a childish manner. He had never heard this voice before and his eyes flew open to find himself in a courtyard with a fountain that crimson water flowed from. A blonde man stood beside him, his hands on his hips and a child's pout across his features. No, not a _man_. He couldn't have been any older than fifteen with sky blue eyes that reminded him vaguely of Alfred's oceanic ones. His hair was longer as well, and lighter. His lips were a pale peach, full and expressive.

Suddenly the situation sank in, "H-how did I get here! Where am I? I should be dead!" The blue eyes widened in shocked surprise. The boy could remember.

* * *

"We can't let this continue brother! I thought this was a place of redemption, not torment!"

"We have nothing to say about it. You can only submit."

His blue eyes flashed in rage, "I will not be part of this any longer! I will not stay here for the rest of eternity, dirtying my hands while he gets by Scot-free! I'd rather be with them than continue this!"

"Shh!" the other hissed, his hand slapping over his mouth, "I am doing this for your own good. Trust your big brother. It won't matter in the end; the only difference would be that you'd have one of his ally's cocks in your ass. Don't do this to your brother, please. He's just trying to keep his baby bro safe from disappointment and pain." He could see the questions in the blue eyes; they bubbled to the surface and pleaded to know. "I've been here longer than you baby brother. I know what I'm talking about."

The crimson eyes of the other looked empty; sucked clean of all vigor he had before the speeding car and the horrible accident.

* * *

"_Come on Ludwig, we need to get home before dad does!" Gilbert shouted to his little brother who was lagging behind. The blonde hadn't really wanted to go to Roderich's party, but his brother had begged so long that he couldn't say no. His older brother was so persistent, even going so far as to cry if it got him his way._

_Which it usually did._

_Their father was a no-nonsense sort of man who worked most of the time, coming home late to their mother who was also strict, but at the same time playfully mischievous. Sadly, their mother had to work overtime at the hospital and their father wouldn't have approved of them walking the four blocks to their cousin's house. They were two away from their street and Gilbert was getting anxious, jumping behind trashcans and bushes when a car drove pass. The elder was more worried, at the age of eleven, all one really wanted to do was not get the belt across one's bottom. That would surely happen if his dad found that he, being the oldest and more responsible one, had left the house and walked four blocks to their cousins with his seven-year-old brother in tow._

_By now, Gilbert was bouncing between steps and chewing his fingers in anxiety. "C'mon Ludwig! We gotta get home fast!" he whined, his foot going a-mile-a-minute as he waited on the final courner, "If we run now, we can make it!"_

"_But what about the cars?"_

_Gilbert ran out to the middle of the street as to make a point, "No cars can hit the awesome me! And since you're related to me, your inherit awesomeness would deflect any cars heading for ya! So c'mon!"_

"_We're half brothers."_

"_Technicalities come on!" The albino made a mad dash, forcing the smaller child to run after him. All he could think about was how funny/stupid his brother was, even though they didn't have the same mother._

_Neither saw the red Mercedes turn the courner with its lights off as the driver hurried to his destination. Ludwig didn't know when he stopped running, but he saw the car at the last minute while his brother turned back to see how far behind the other was. The blonde didn't know when he opened his mouth to scream for his brother to move out of the way, but no air passed his lips before the screech of the wheels cut him off and the sickening crunch of bones._

_Two boys died that night; the first being the boy who had not seen the car, his entire frame being thrown back against the asphalt. Originally, the car kept speeding on and Ludwig was just too shocked to cry. He walked to his older brother, not noticing the pool of blood forming around his head from where his skull made hard contact with the uncaring bitumen. He knelt beside the older boy, pushing against him lightly, "Hey, Gilbert, are you alright? Gilbert? Please open your eyes Gilbert, you're scaring me. A-And that's not awesome Gilbert." He was met with silence. Their dad would be home by now, wondering where the boys were, probably getting in his car to go hunt for them. Fuming over the albino boy and how irresponsible he was. As if to answer him, lights inched around the courner to reveal the red Mercedes returning. The car parked and a young man, his hair already graying from years of stress, stepped out of the car reluctantly, his blue-violet eyes trailing back to the car. The back door opened slowly, and a pale boy with near white hair and the same coloured eyes as the father attempted to step out onto shaky feet._

"_No, Matthew! Stay there!" the father commanded. The boy was deathly thin and his eyes looked dead._

_Oddly enough, the boy stayed where he was. "Is he alright?" he asked with a wavering, near-inaudible voice. He was on his last leg, even Ludwig could tell he was dying, even as the blonde German watched him he could see death inching closer._

_The father took one look at the blood and shook his head, but took the boy's pulse just to confirm his thoughts. The child was dead. Before he could respond, he saw his own child coughing, blood trickling down his chin. Everything was a blur, but Ludwig knew that the end was there. He was only seven when he watched two people die._

* * *

Gilbert had left his little brother to think about what _he_ knew. He knew death, he knew little of life, and he knew some of what was beyond. They were in limbo, a place of life and death before they were made clean. It was a trial, a temptation of the devil himself, who lurked outside the protective walls. The demons that passed through used the small ones as their source of pleasure, but _He_ would check up periodically, to ensure that none grew their wings. Gilbert remembered when he had passed his tests and was ready to be accepted into Heaven. _He_ came and ripped them from his shoulders; blood, all the blood, the blinding pain, the tears of forgiveness. The proposition. He could stay here, in what used to be a safe haven from the fires outside, or he could be put through the agony of hope being torn quite literally from his own body, again and again.

"Welcome back," a soft voice greeted him.

Gilbert didn't need to look up to see who it was, "You should be gone. I don't want _Him_ finding you. You know what he'll do to those pretty wings Mattie."

"And why should I be gone because of that?" the Canadian boy remarked with a frown, his snowy white wings had reached maturity since they had last seen each other. He hugged his friend, feeling the cold skin against his own warmth, "I'm not scared of him."

"Can you answer me something?" the German asked; his arms still by his side and his eyes eyes closed as he tried to push back the tears. Matthew looked at him oddly, but nodded. "I-is there really a God?"

"Gilbert-."

"B-because I need to know . . . if I have anything to look forward to, please?"

"Gilbert . . ."

* * *

"God strengthens us; he guides us in all we do, so we know right and wrong. He made us in his image of sanity, love, justice, wisdom, and power. We are compassionate to each other as he is to us." Ivan spoke softly, telling what he knew of God, which was more than they did. Alfred had made a point to be near to Ivan during his talks. Everyone wanted to be near to him. He seemed to be the most righteous of them all, almost like a child Messiah to those in this Hell. And everyone crowded close to the violet-eyed boy, as though being so near would transfer his holiness into them by osmosis.

The door slammed open and the boys jumped, a very angry Gilbert stood in the threshold. His red eyes looked bloodshot and unfocused, glazing over all their worried and frightened faces before meeting the clear violet ones that he loathed so strongly. The ruby irises seemed to focus directly on the child before he stalked up to them. His pale hand shooting out faster than they could register, the only way they knew what he was doing was from the cry of pained surprise from Violet as his ashen hair was gripped tightly, his small hands hanging on to Gilbert's larger ones.

"No!" Alfred shouted and lunged to grab his friend as he was pulled away, only to have the other boys pull him back.

"You can' help."

"You'd get hurt too."

"You can't save anyone."

But damn it all he wanted to try.

* * *

They sat on the edge of the fountain, Arthur looking into the dark red pool that was too thick to be water. Francis, the older boy who had found him, dropped a pebble into the fountain, creating small, heavy ripples.

"Most of us don't remember until we gain our wings. And that takes a long, long time. As you can imagine," the blonde explained, his blue eyes countering the red of the pool.

Arthur nodded, "I understand, that's why you were so surprised." Then it struck him. "Do you remember?"

Francis nodded.

"Then why are you still here?"

A dark smile graced his peach coloured lips, "Because _he_ will never let you leave."


	4. REWRITE NOTICE Technical discontinue

I am currently rewriting this story, just wanted to let you all know. I will delete this original after I get the first chapter up again. Thank you for your patience.

~Whyntir~


	5. Announcement

Hello, you may have figured I must have died eons ago. No updates in over a year almost, nothing quite substantial. I apologize. Many of my stories are being discontinued for various reasons, mainly because my sense of literary refinement that has developed over time no longer allows me to continue due to their poor quality. Of this list includes:

_A House Divided_

_Loving It_

_Singing Through Bars_

_Song of the Century_

_Bewitched_

_The Cage_

_Not Like You_

_Fallen Heart_

* * *

However, I have not quit. Over this extended period of absence, I have been outlining remakes of certain stories that deserve better and/or more.

_Waving Flag_

_Don't Leave Me Here_

_In this Diary_

_One of Nothing_

_Code Geass_

Please be patient, I will soon have a first chapter out for my new work within the next month or two. I sincerely apologize. From now on, I will carefully plan works and not start too many that I cannot finish. Here are some peeks at the new, refined, mature style you will be getting soon.

* * *

_Dance Among the Loti _(Waving Flag Remake)

"Many things fade," he spoke in a near whisper, his voice heavy with weariness, as though he carried some invisible weight, "Youth, beauty, good friends, even memories. Eventually, even the fact that once we existed tapers off to a mere whimsy of a person glancing at a name upon a gravestone, realizing it means nothing to them."

* * *

_Crimson Tears of Lost Souls _(Don't Leave Me Here Remake)

Gunfire rained around me, seeming to bounce off the fog itself; it was thick enough, so I couldn't say I would have been surprised had that really been the case. It came from all sides, from out of the dismal gray, screams and distorted commands drowned out in the orchestra of explosions. Now and then, from the corner of my eye, I could just make out dark figures in the distance before they slipped just out of view. Sweat beaded under the helmet, rolling down my brow and the bridge of my nose, despite the chill of the bog. I made to swipe it as a figure appeared, this one staying. Rolling my shoulders, lifting the rifle that seemed to suddenly gain another twenty pounds, I took aim. Something was very wrong, he walked with a wide stance and appeared unarmed, shuffling right past me, seemingly more interested in something else, not even noting my existence. The second I tightened my hold around the trigger, a cold sense of dread filled me; I knew immediately I had made a terrible mistake.

* * *

I hope you will come and see my new works as they come out and continue supporting me and them. I hope to entertain you on an entirely new level than the works you have seen so far. Thank you.


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